Ugh.
Dinner was a test of patience, unlike anything I had ever experienced. I wasn’t the kind to hold my peace; if I felt it, I said it. My quick mouth had gotten me into quite a bit of trouble over the years. Adam had to intervene on my behalf many times when I had lipped off to the wrong person.
Of course, his aw-shucks good ol’ boy charism had been the perfect antidote to my more...um, fiery disposition.
So, I sat across the table from him and ate my steak and answered Marion and Tom’s questions about life in New York and pretended I didn’t want to rip their son’s hair out.
And then stick my tongue down his annoying throat. It’s the eyes. They got me every time. And the dimple. And his chin. And his nose wasn’t too bad...
Like I said, ugh.
By the time we left, I was exhausted. The effort to maintain civility was harder than one would think.
When Mom told me two days ago that Marion and Tom had invited us to their house for a cookout, I thought, No sweat. I can handle Adam. He doesn’t matter to me. I had pumped myself up like Rocky Balboa before a fight.“I’m a sort-of successful artist. I’ve been living in New York City for six years, not stuck in one horse Southport. I have friends. I have a life,” I told my reflection out loud as I got ready to head to the Ducates’.
“Who cares if Adam is super rich and super successful. So what if he married Chelsea?” I popped my hip and stuck out my chin defiantly. “I’m Meghan Galloway, and I’m amazing.”
I felt like some damn self-help infomercial, but I thought it had worked.
Until the bastard went and pressed all my buttons. Every. Single. One.
Mom wasn’t much help in soothing my jangled nerves about seeing Adam again. She knew Adam and I had a falling out during our senior year of high school but never knew the specifics. I thought it was better that way. I didn’t want my mom insisting that we reconcile. She would have pushed and pushed until I had no choice but to do as she said.
And I did not want to make up with Adam.
There were some indignities you wanted to keep to yourself. Like the way that my stomach turned inside out when I saw him with her. What a blow to my pride it had been to be ditched at the Homecoming Dance only to find the two of them in the hallway, her arms around him like vines and his mouth pressed to hers, his hand up her dress.
And then later the way she linked her hand with his in a way that clearly said, He’s mine, back off.
And I definitely didn’t want to share how I had run out of the Homecoming dance sobbing. That all of my classmates had witnessed me reduced to a puddle of humiliated tears while Chelsea I’m-a-Witch Sloane had danced the night away with my best friend.
In the months after, Mom frequently asked why I wasn’t spending time with Adam. Why Skylar, and sometimes Kyle, still dropped by, but why Adam was never around.
“He’s got a girlfriend, Mom. Just leave it alone,” Whitney had told her, and Mom surprisingly enough listened.
I had never thanked Whitney for interceding.
“Marion and Tom want to see you, Meggie. Lena too,” Mom insisted.
There was no mention of Adam.
Maybe my mother wasn’t as blind to the situation as I thought she was.
So I had gone to the Ducates. And it had been fine in the beginning. It felt good to talk to Lena again. We had spoken sporadically over the years, but it had been a long time since we spent any time together.
I knew her loyalty would be with Adam, as it should be, but we had been close too. She had been like a younger sister to both Whitney and me. She tagged along on our girlie shopping trips, and we had helped her get ready for school dances.
But that had gradually stopped after Adam and I were no longer friends. I had lost more than Adam, that was for sure.
Talking with Tom, Marion, and Lena felt like old times. There was an easiness between us that could only come from a rich and deep history.
Then he showed up, and it all went to shit.
I wanted to hate him. Up until recently, I thought that was what I felt. I would have told anyone who asked, without question, that my feelings for Adam fell into the wish-he-would-fall-off-the-face-of-the-Earth variety.
But seeing him again, I realized that wasn’t true. Because there was a part of me—a small part, but a part all the same—that longed to forget my pride and the great gulf of time and hurt feelings between us. I missed him. It was the sort of yearning that you felt in your bones.
It sucked big time.
It was easy to ignore it when we weren’t face to face. I had been doing it successfully—or so I thought—for the past ten years.
Then he turned his blue eyes to mine, and I felt the chasm open beneath my feet, and I was falling all over again.
The fucking bastard.
And he hadn’t developed a beer belly and receding hairline to make my life easier. Jerk.
And when he spoke...and laughed...and smiled...my stomach squeezed and twisted until I thought I was going to puke.
But then he had opened his stupid mouth, and I forgot how gorgeous he was and only wanted to punch him in the mouth.
After he arrived, the rest of the dinner consisted of me pretending he wasn’t there and him making obnoxious jokes trying to get my attention. What were we? Twelve?
Attempting to be mature was tiring. Pretending like Adam wasn’t there was downright difficult. By the time we left, all I wanted to do was drink a bottle of wine and binge Netflix until I could scrub his adorably loathsome smile from my brain.
“That was lovely, wasn’t it?” Mom said as we drove the five blocks home.
“Just lovely,” I replied flatly. I was internally wondering if I had wine at the house or if Mom would mind if I stopped at the store on the way home.
Alcohol would be my new best friend.
Mom was in a particularly pushy mood. “You seemed to enjoy yourself. Didn’t you? You and Lena were chatting like old times. And it was so nice to see you and Adam together again.”
I knew the best course of action would be not to say anything. To agree and carry on like there was nothing wrong. But I was tired. I was stretched and strained, and I didn’t have the energy to lie. Plus, why should I protect Adam’s precious image? Screw him.
“Adam Ducate is a complete dick,” I retorted sharply.
Mom’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I know you guys had your problems, but that was years ago—”
“Look, Mom, I never told you what happened between Adam and me. We had more than problems.” I gripped the steering wheel hard enough that I thought it would break off in my hand. “Adam broke my heart, Mom. And then he acted like a total ass about it. It wasn’t as much about him hooking up with Chelsea—who is the worst I might add—it was about him lying to me. And then pushing me out of his life like I didn’t matter.” I turned down our street, putting my foot down on the accelerator in my haste to get out of the car and away from this conversation.
“No,” my mom gasped. “I can’t believe that. You and Adam were so close. He would have done anything in the world for you.”
“Except act like a fucking decent human being,” I muttered.
Mom tutted sternly. “Meghan Ann Galloway, watch your mouth.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Now, a lot of time has passed, maybe you need to look at it with fresh, more mature eyes,” Mom suggested primly.